


Missing Pieces of You

by Estelathan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Gen, Season/Series 07, slight angst, some foul language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelathan/pseuds/Estelathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With everything that had been going on lately Dean had nearly forgotten about it, but there it was stuffed in the very back of the car's trunk: Castiel's trench coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Pieces of You

 

If Dean were being honest with himself, and hell if that wasn’t an absurd notion right there considering just how far the world had gone to shit in just a handful of weeks, he would have to admit that he was being completely, utterly ridiculous. Here he was packing their latest stolen car—the fourth in just as many weeks—an old beater that had once started life a deep cherry color that was now faded and rusted all to hell and there it was, stashed in the very back of the trunk of the car he was cleaning out: Castiel’s trench coat. _Well I’ll be a son of a bitch…_ Dean thought, his mouth suddenly dry, as he stared down the squashed pile of material as if it was going to suddenly rise up and try to attack him. See: ridiculous. With everything that had been going on lately between the Leviathans’ and Sam being off the reservation with Lucifer in his head, Dean had nearly forgotten about ever picking up the coat yet there it was, and the more he stared at it the more he felt some nameless emotion begin to swell within his chest.

 

It could have been minutes, it could have been an hour, who knew how time passed when one was stuck in a staring contest with an inanimate object, but finally Dean snapped out of it enough to reach into the trunk and pull the lump of fabric towards him. Up close the coat was wrinkled all to hell, smelled heavily of damp fabric despite being long dry, and still sported deep mingling red and black stains of angel blood and Leviathan goo…and what was Dean keeping it around for again? The hell if he knew. Even all this time later Dean didn’t know the why but there was just something stopping him from throwing the coat away. “Aw, Cass..” Dean sighs, one hand letting go of the coat to come up and rub down his face. Cass—poor dead bastard that he was, _was dead_ and given the amount of time that had passed it was looking more and more like he wouldn’t be coming back for another round, and that was it right there wasn’t it? The whole source of whatever it was that had been writhing around in the pit of Dean’s stomach ever since he watched the angel walk into that ravine. Cass wasn’t coming back this time, and despite all the crap the angel had pulled scheming around with Crowley and playing at being God, despite it all, somewhere deep down Dean had to admit: he missed the guy.

 

Dean huffed out a laugh, his breath puffing like smoke in the early morning chill and shook his head. God, he could be such a girl sometimes. Maybe it was a good thing he let Sam go on that grocery run after all—the last thing he needed was his little brother giving him shit for missing the angel. He would probably have a point, Dean had to concede—after everything Cass had done, especially after hurting Sam, Dean shouldn’t be giving two shits about the guy so why was he getting choked up all of a sudden? “Dammit Cass!” Dean growled, frustrated, as his fingers dug into the stiff material of the coat. “You friggin’ child! Why couldn’t you just _listen_ to me for once!?”

 

There’s no answer—not that Dean’s expecting one considering he’s standing in the middle of a parking lot like an idiot talking out loud to a dead angel—though still, some deep buried part of him can’t help but be disappointed. Cass may not have had the insane morality rate Dean seemed to possess but it wasn’t like the angel hadn’t managed to bounce back from worse things before. Though obviously that wasn’t going to happen this time and the sooner Dean accepted that the better off he’d be. _Easier said than done…_ He thinks, absentmindedly running his hand over the stiff filthy material. The minutes continue to tick on by as Dean stands there and broods though it isn’t until he hears the crunch of gravel and the familiar tread of his brother picking his way across the parking lot that he finally touches back down to reality.

 

“Hey,” Sam calls out as he nears, both hands full with plastic sacks from the gas station a couple blocks down. He looks tired and stressed just like he always does these days though his eyes are bright in the dim light and it gives Dean some hope when he looks up into them. “You ready to go?”

 

“Almost.” Dean grunts out, snapping back into efficient mode like a switch being flipped as he hastily stuffs the coat under the pile of their stuff he’s made in the new car before standing back and stretching. “Did you remember the pie this time?” He asks, eyeballing over the bags as Sam draws up alongside him, and doing his best to pretend he hadn't just nearly been caught fondling a coat in an empty parking lot like some kinda creepy pervert.

 

The question earns him an eye roll and a patented ‘are you kidding me?’ bitch-face from Sam as he stuffs the bags into Dean’s arms. “What do you think?” He mutters before heading around towards the passenger side of the car, and sure enough when Dean peeks into the bags there’s cherry pie waiting for him amongst all the rabbit food Sam favors. Grinning to himself the bags go into the trunk with everything else, and with a quick glance to see if Sam’s watching—he’s not, thankfully—he stuffs Cass’ coat back into its resting place in the back corner of the trunk before slamming the lid down. It doesn’t resolve anything and someday Dean will have to deal with it, especially if Sam discovers the coat, but whatever. It’s not like it’s the first thing Dean’s put off until it came back to bite him in the ass.

 

Until then Dean has no problem letting the coat continue to haunt him—from the (hidden) safety of the trunk. Right now he had bigger things to worry about, namely a not so little brother who had the devil riding shotgun in his head...and who was waiting on him. Plastering on his cocky ‘I’m perfectly fine!’ grin, Dean rounded the car, opened the door, and slid into the driver’s seat. The nagging, restless feeling still squirmed in his guts but he ignored it—his longstanding issues with Cass would surface eventually but for now the open road was calling. “Let’s hit the road Sasquatch!” Dean declared with a slight waggle of his eyebrows in Sam’s direction only to be rewarded with yet another eye roll, but hey, he’d take whatever he got at this point; better an eye roll than the alternative. Grinning, Dean started the car up and they were off once more.


End file.
